


Perfect for Each Other

by CinnamonLily



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: 5+1 Things, Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Alternate Universe - Human, Cuteness overload, F/M, Getting Together, Good Peter, Humor, M/M, Mechanic Chris Argent, Mechanic Derek Hale, Mutual Pining, POV Outsider, POV Peter, Professor Peter Hale, Sassy Peter, Sort Of, Stalker Peter, TA Stiles Stilinski
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-25
Updated: 2017-10-25
Packaged: 2019-01-23 02:37:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12496704
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CinnamonLily/pseuds/CinnamonLily
Summary: Professor Peter Hale has a new TA, Stiles Stilinski. He's the best TA Peter has ever had, and Peter wants to reward that somehow. Peter's nephew Derek is a socially awkward mechanic whose type Stiles fits to a T. They're obviously perfect for each other, now all Peter has to do is make them see it, too.





	Perfect for Each Other

**Author's Note:**

  * For [addict_writer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/addict_writer/gifts).



> This one is for addict_writer. It's my take of the 5+1 trope, without really being 5+1. It's also very Peter-centric, but then again, you seemed to want that, so... here we go? :D  
> I hope it's something you enjoy, and it was such a pleasure to work with this story. I haven't actually written an outsider POV before, so this was fun!
> 
> Many thanks for red_crate for her beta help. You're my dude, dude.

* * *

 

 

Stiles Stilinski had been Professor Peter Hale’s TA since the new academic year started two months ago. By now, Peter felt somewhat used to the flailing and the endless questions and the talking and just… well, the Stilesness.

At one point in his life, Peter never would have wanted to work with someone so…. For an English professor, Peter hated that there didn’t seem to be words to quite describe his TA. In any case, at one point he would’ve only seen the nuisance Stiles could be. Nowadays, he saw Stiles’s caring and big heart, and his intelligence.

Stiles took care of the new students who were lost, and checked in with the ones further into their studies who were lagging behind. He went beyond his responsibilities, which is something Peter would never not reward.

That’s why he had Chris’s garage’s brochure on his desk that day. It was bait.

His husband of five years had owned his garage for a decade now. Two years ago, he’d hired Peter’s nephew Derek when he’d wandered into town and needed something to do.

To be honest, Peter had never really seen the similarities in Chris and Derek before. Now, whenever he went to the garage, he teased them about their caveman communication skills. They honest to deity grunted at each other. It all still worked though.

The garage was the best one in Beacon Hills, and some people came from further away when they had those fancy new cars their regular mechanic couldn’t service because the thing had a computer inside. Yeah, Chris had beat most other mechanics to that one. He’d seen the way the computerization of vehicles would change fixing them, and he’d been right there, visiting factories and learning everything he could before they started to become the norm.

Yes, Peter was proud of his husband. They’d had a rocky road to get where they were now, but they were happy and successful.

The latest business endeavor Chris had decided on was marketing them as a LGBTQ+ friendly garage. They’d hired Erica, a friend of Derek’s, last year, and her husband Boyd did the accounting for the garage these days. It was all very family oriented, but then neither Peter nor Chris had much when it came to the dreaded F word.

Chosen family. Yes. That’s what they called it.

His office door opened, and Stiles flailed in.

“Hey Prof!”

Peter raised a hand, pretending like he was reading something on his computer screen. It was the best way to make Stiles fidget. When he’d start doing that, it was only a matter of time until he took the bait.

This time, it took about two minutes. Stiles sat in the visitor’s chair, looked around the walls and the bookshelves. His foot tapped a bit, then more than a little, and he seemed to force it still. Fingers were next. The tap-tap-tapping on the armrest.

Long limbs folded and unfolded, then abruptly, Stiles got up and walked to the closest bookshelf. When he found nothing new there, he moved back again.

The whiskey-and-honey gaze fall onto the neatly organized desktop.

Three.

Two.

One.

Bingo.

Long fingers reached for the brochure, and he picked it up, then sat in the chair again.

Peter grinned inwardly when Stiles seemed to get instantly engrossed with the thing. He unfolded the brochure, reading every word, then turned it around and….

An audible gasp escaped Stiles’s mouth.

“Okay, sorry about this. I needed to read the email,” Peter said, timing the words perfectly.

Stiles looked up at him, eyes wide and jaw a bit slack. “Uh….”

“What do you think?” Peter nodded toward the brochure still in Stiles’s hands.

Stiles looked down and blushed, then glanced back at Peter, as if he’d done something wrong.

“They’re new, the brochures. Chris had them made last week.”

Stiles seemed to gather his wits, and soon he nodded rapidly. “Y-yeah, it’s very nice. I like the colors. And how subtle the LGBTQ aspect is, you know.”

“Uh-huh. You should bring your Jeep there sometime. Just for a check-up. I’m sure they’d give you a discount.”

“Yeah, I’ll keep that in mind.” Stiles’s gaze fell onto the pictures again, and Peter grinned.

“Derek’s my nephew,” he said, knowing the order of the staff photos on the page well enough to know Stiles hadn’t taken his eyes off Derek’s yet. “He’s single, you know.”

“W-what?” Stiles gawked at him.

“Single. As in, you seem to find him attractive, so you should definitely come get serviced.” Peter smirked at the double-entendre.

Stiles noticed. “I… uh….”

“Or I could just give you his phone number now?”

“I don’t think—uh…,” Stiles trailed off in his haste to get up from his seat and tossed the brochure on the desk. “I have a lecture, so I should be going.” He gestured at the door wildly, avoiding Peter’s gaze at all costs.

“Talk to you later!” Peter called after him.

The seed had been planted.

He looked out of the window and chuckled under his breath. This should be interesting.

 

*-*-*

 

Three days later, Peter was so ready to get home after a long day of listening to idiotic freshmen who couldn’t tell the way to a library if their life depended on it. Having to explain every little reference he made while talking about Dylan Thomas or Robert Frost made him grit his teeth and hope that he wouldn’t just snap one day.

The kicker that day had been when they’d analyzed _Stopping by Woods on a Snowy Evening_ by Frost, and some of the oh so mature students had giggled at the word “queer” in the poem.

Sometimes Peter wondered how he’d come this far without killing anyone. Stiles, who was sitting in on the class, had glared at the stupid ones for him. Peter had no doubt that after class, or before the next one, Stiles would go and have words with them.

He let the students leave exactly on the clock, not wanting to deal with them any longer, and dug his cell phone out of his pocket. He’d felt it vibrate during the class, but if he banned phones from the students, it wasn’t fair to have his out, either.

“Damn it,” he hissed, making Stiles walk up to him.

“What’s wrong?”

“Oh, nothing, really. I can’t wait to get out of here, and Chris was supposed to pick me up. He got a rush job at the garage, and now I have to wait for a while before my nephew gets here.”

“I have a class in half an hour, but I’ll come sit with you outside if you’d like?” Stiles offered, knowing that he wouldn’t want to go back to his office. Having a buffer between himself and the students milling around the campus would be handy, especially with the mood he was in.

“What did I do to deserve a TA like you?” Peter asked, feeling genuinely grateful.

Stiles just ducked his head and chuckled awkwardly. By now, Peter knew it wasn’t about the appropriateness of the question, but more about Stiles’s low self esteem. Peter wasn’t the most appropriate person anyway, and Stiles had noticed that earlier than most. Stiles had extraordinary deduction skills, and he noticed things most people wouldn’t. They were very admirable attributes for a TA.

Peter grabbed his messenger bag—it was a fancy leather one, an anniversary present from Chris and he loved it—and gestured for Stiles to go ahead. They soon found themselves on a bench outside, tilting their faces to catch the rays of autumn sun.

“Oh, before I forget completely,” Peter said, eyes still closed. “We’re having a barbeque on Sunday. You should come. Bring your father, too.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, apparently Chris met him at the grocery store the other day.” Peter gestured vaguely. “Something something about meat. Chris is going to barbeque something ‘extraordinary’ which he wants the Sheriff to try.”

Stiles chuckled. “Okay. We’ll be there. Want us to bring anything?”

“Some sort of a dessert thing, maybe?”

A car horn sounded nearby and Peter looked over to see Derek’s Camaro idling at the curb.

“That’s my ride. See you on Sunday.”

“Yeah.” Stiles had turned his face back toward the sun.

Peter glanced at his cell phone to check the time. “You have fifteen minutes to get to class,” he reminded.

“Uh-huh,” Stiles murmured.

Peter felt relatively sure Stiles wouldn’t fall asleep right there, but kicked his ankle anyway. “Hey, go to class.”

Stiles didn’t even look annoyed, instead, he opened one eye and peered at Peter.

“I will. Go on. See you on Sunday.” Then he went back to soaking in the sun.

Peter shook his head fondly and walked to the Camaro.

“Thanks for coming to get me,” he told Derek, who seemed distracted.

When Peter turned to see what’s got his nephew so spellbound, he wanted to laugh out loud. He didn’t though. Not when Derek looked dumbfounded like this. He was staring at Stiles, as if he was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

Peter could understand. His TA was stunning. But he had his husband at home, and nothing beat Christopher, not for Peter.

After a minute or two, Stiles deflated a little, turning his face away from the sun. He got up and gathered his bag, then began to walk back toward the languages department.

Derek seemed like he’d just woken up. He closed his mouth audibly, and Peter pretended he’s engrossed in his phone.

“So,” Derek said, then cleared his throat. “You going home or the garage?”

“Home, please. I have no idea how long Chris will take.”

“Okay.”

“You’re coming to the barbeque on Sunday, right?” he asked as they get closer to home.

“Uh….” Derek seemed torn. He’d never quite grown out of his awkward phase when it came to social interaction. He was much better now, but sometimes the shyness of his teenage years still haunted him.

He parked by the curb, and Peter tried to figure out an angle to get him to come.

Peter wanted to say that Stiles would be there, but he knew his nephew well enough and didn’t want to spook him. “Come on. You can even talk shop with Chris if you want.”

Derek ducked his head and smiled slightly. “Well if that’s the case, then sure.”

“See you then.”

 

*-*-*

 

Peter wished he’d had his phone in his hand so he could’ve taken a photo of Derek and Stiles when they realized they were in the same place at the same time.

The both blinked rapidly, flushed, turned around, and fled to the opposite sides of Chris and Peter’s yard. Even the Sheriff—“John, please call me John.”—took notice and looked terribly amused.

There weren’t that many people around. Just the Stilinski’s, Derek, Erica, Boyd, and Chris’s daughter, Allison, who happened to be in town.

Allison and Stiles seemed to get along, then again it was hardly difficult to get along either of them. Young, beautiful, and witty. It was a killer combination, Peter had to admit that. He’d been all that once. Now he was just beautiful and witty.

Chris came over to where he was piling paper plates and solo cups on the picnic table.

“Still hate those, love?” he murmured into Peter’s ear as he embraced him from the side.

Peter pouted and turned to playfully stab him with a plastic fork.

“I guess that’s enough of an answer,” his husband said, chuckling.

They kissed, chaste and very PG, but never boring.

“Dad? Do you have grilling cheese?” Allison called from the bench she was sitting on with Stiles.

Chris pecked Peter’s lips once more and turned away. “Yeah, there should be some. Why don’t you go figure out if there’s anything else you want grilled. Grab someone to help bring in more drinks from the garage?”

“Sure thing!” she called out and nudges Stiles. “You want to come?”

“Yeah, sure.”

They went inside the house, and Peter continued his so-called table setting. Yes, he did realize plastic things were easier. There’s no doing the dishes, but it still made the snob in him shiver with disgust.

Chris had gone to make sure the grill is ready and was talking with John when Peter finally deemed everything ready.

Allison was back, talking with Erica and Boyd. For some reason, they were gathered around Chris’s lawn mower, and it looked like something messy was going on there. _Mechanics._

Peter looked at the table one more time, and it hit him there were no napkins. Or paper towels, whichever, he scoffed.

He went around the house and was about to step into the garage where they kept extra supplies, when he heard a nervous chuckle.

Recognizing the source of the sound as Stiles, he crept closer. The door between kitchen and garage was open, and he snuck to it, then peered through the gap.

Stiles and Derek stood in the kitchen, the cooler next to Stiles’s feet. They were talking quietly, and both seemed to be going through series of “aww shucks” type of ticks. It was… endearing.

“I suppose,” Derek answered to something Stiles had just said, and they both swayed ever so slightly toward each other.

With how they were standing, if they had moved just so, their fingers would’ve touched on one side. Peter waited with bated breath, watching as they sway even more. Hell, they could even kiss?

Peter acknowledged he might’ve been a bit of a creeper in this scenario, but his nephew looked so spellbound, and Stiles, even with his back mostly turned to Peter, seemed… still.

Suddenly a very loud car drove past the house, breaking the moment. Stiles and Derek jerked back from each other as if burned.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” Peter exclaimed, making them both look toward the garage door.

Derek made some excuse and vanished deeper into the house before Peter could even move. Stiles frowned at him, seeming flustered.

“Go on, take the drinks outside,” Peter said. “I’ll be right with you.”

Then he went to look for those fucking paper towels.

 

*-*-*

 

It was going to be Chris’s birthday in two days, and the exam season had left Peter pretty damn tired and busy for the last week or so. That was why he sat in a mall food court, sipping a cinnamon latte, and ignoring the shrieking children around him.

At least he’d managed to get a table where the glass railing gave him a view into the lower level of the mall. He idly people-watched as he tried to figure out something to buy his husband who already had everything.

And by “everything” Peter meant himself.

He could always go to the bookstore and find Chris another book on motors or cars or something like that. The history of everything with a motor interested him, after all. But Peter felt that was too boring for a birthday present.

Instead, Peter sipped his coffee and sighed. He dug out his phone and called his step-daughter.

“Hey, Papa Peter,” she said brightly. She’d never actually called him anything like that, so he knew she was joking in a fond, loving way. “Not finding a present for Dad?”

“You, princess, are completely accurate.” Peter sighed.

“Well lucky for you, I happen to know what he really wants,” she said, sounding compassionate now. She knew Peter hated not being able to find the perfect present, especially when it came to Chris.

They might not have always seen eye to eye, him and Allison, but they both knew how much the other loved Christopher, and they’d always bonded on that at least.

Peter was pretty sure she could hear his huge sigh of relief, because she started to laugh at her end.

“Okay. But I warn you, it’s not something you like.”

“It’s not _for_ me,” Peter said, despite knowing that she was right. He did have certain standard for present-giving. If whatever Chris wanted wasn’t quite up to par, well, Peter guessed he’d just have to suffer.

“Brace yourself,” Allison advised. “Go to the Army surplus store on Maple Street.”

Peter groaned and turned his head, only to see his nephew step into a men’s clothing store down on the lower level of the mall.

“What does he want from there?” he asked, keeping an eye on Derek as he seemed to browse henleys. None of the ones in that rack had V-necks. What a shame.

“You know that horrible green knitted shirt he has? With the elbow patches?”

“Uh-huh….”

“Well he said he can’t duct tape the patches back on anymore. That they don’t stick.”

Peter let out a wounded sound that made a mother sitting at the closest table to his look up, wide eyed.

“I know, I know. He needs something warm and durable to wear at the garage, though. So go to the surplus store, and figure something out?”

“Yeah, okay.” Peter could admit defeat. “Thank you, princess.”

“You’re welcome.”

Suddenly Stiles walked into Peter’s view and headed straight into the same clothing store downstairs.

“I’ve gotta go. Talk to you later?”

“Yeah, tell Dad hi from me. Bye!”

Peter ended the call and put the phone back into his pocket. Then he drained the rest of his caffeine and got up.

He couldn’t see Derek anymore, or Stiles, from where he was, so he needed to move. As awkward as the two of them had been so far when put in the same space, Peter had planned those encounters. This time, it seemed like the universe was conspiring with Peter, and he wanted to see what happened.

He made his way to the nearby escalator and rode it downstairs, then walked around it to get to where he could see inside the small shop.

Quality clothing, so Derek at least was trying to impress someone. Who knew why Stiles was there, after all, about eighty percent of his clothing was plaid.

Peter parked himself on the edge of the fountain conveniently close enough for a view of the shop, but far enough away so he wouldn’t be easily spotted.

He could see Derek’s dark hair in the back of the shop, and Stiles had gone to a wall of collared shirts closer to the front. Peter felt like he was watching a thriller unfold.

The duo inside the shop was drifting toward each other without realizing it. The salesperson inside had gone to organize something after greeting Stiles, and wasn’t—thankfully—bothering them.

Suddenly Stiles turned around and found himself behind Derek. Peter grinned as he saw Stiles hesitate, and then tap Derek on the shoulder.

Aaand yeah, there was the spellbound expression on his nephew’s face, again. They were near the middle of the store now, by the dressing room that was nothing more than a small cubicle, Peter had been there. He couldn’t tell what was being said, but then Derek ducked his head and Stiles’s whole body seemed to twitch.

Peter watched, awed, as Stiles reached grab Derek’s neck and pulled him into a kiss. Peter felt like whooping or maybe making waves, and he could barely sit still as Derek slowly returned the kiss.

And then the most incredible thing happened: Stiles grabbed Derek by the lapels of his stupid leather jacket and pulled him inside the dressing room.

It didn’t take much to figure out what was going in there, and Peter wanted to start writing thank you cards to the universe.

Then the salesperson looked around, seemed to realize his customers were gone, and looked confused. Then he must have heard something, because he squared his shoulders and walked to the dressing room.

Peter groaned out loud. He watched with impending doom as the salesperson spoke, then the door opened. A sheepish looking Stiles with mussed hair and Derek, who couldn’t look anyone in the eyes, exited.

Peter got up from his seat, knowing how this would go. He scoffed, vowing that he’d never shop at the particular store again despite their lovely stock of V-necks, and marched away.

On his way to the Army surplus store he called his sister.

“Hello Peter, what can I do for you?” she asked pleasantly enough, but there was and always would be suspicion in her tone when she spoke to him.

“Hey, Talia. I have a favor to ask.”

“Oh?”

“Could you pretend you’ve invited my TA to the family dinner next Sunday?” he asked, knowing he’d piqued her interest.

“Why would I do that?” she asked, cautiously curious.

“Let’s just say there might be something going on between him and Derek, and they need a kick in the rear to get things moving.” Peter smirked.

Always worried about her only son, she sighed. “Alright. You can bring your TA over. He’s the sheriff’s son, right?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“They’re good people,” Talia said thoughtfully, as if that was the deciding factor and not the fact that Stiles had worked for Peter for months now at the college. He rolled his eyes at her reasoning, but decided not to comment on it.

“See you then!”

“Yes, goodbye, Peter.”

He wasn’t sure why he’d never gotten along with his sister, but that seemed to be the way things would remain for the rest of their lives. They could be civil, but that was about it.

Oh well. The dinner should be amusing, if nothing else. If this didn’t work, Peter would kidnap both Derek and Stiles, and put them in a locked room until they got it through their thick heads that they were perfect for each other.

 

*-*-*

 

By the time Stiles arrived at Talia and James’s on Sunday, Derek’s sisters were in-the-know concerning the situation with their brother. Derek, however, was quite oblivious.

As soon as he spotted Stiles’s jeep coming down the driveway, he turned to throw a glare at Peter. It was a mix of utter betrayal and unexpected excitement from being given a present he hadn’t known he wanted.

Chris chuckled under his breath when he saw Derek’s face.

Everything was going well, all the Hales were behaving themselves, for the most part. Derek and Stiles were trying not being obvious, and nobody certainly mentioned anything when they noticed the glances the two were stealing every chance they got.

Then, somewhere around desserts, Cora who was sitting next to Stiles, looked at him with wide doe eyes and asked, “So, Stiles, since you’re single, would you mind going out for a coffee with me sometime next week?”

The expression on Stiles’s face was worth every penny in Peter’s bank account. He looked utterly lost for words, and, for Stiles, that was a very uncommon occurrence.

“I… uh…,” he tried to say something, anything, to get out of the situation.

Derek on the other hand, looked murderous. “Cora,” he ground out from between his gritted teeth.

Laura snickered on his other side.

That’s when both Stiles and Derek seemed to realize they were being fucked with. Stiles’s nervousness drained away, and he flushed lightly.

“Uh… I’m not much for… girls.”

Cora looked like the cat that got the canary _and_ the milk. “Oh, well there’s always Der—”

“Alright, Cora Marie, you’re helping me with the dishes,” her father said, before Derek practically bolted from the table.

Stiles made some extremely vague excuses and thanked Talia for the lovely meal, then followed her son deeper into the house.

James and Cora were joined by Chris in the kitchen, because Peter had been lucky enough to bring the dessert. He and Talia were sitting by the fireplace in the living room, talking with Laura who sipped juice while her husband, Jordan, rubbed her feet. She balanced her glass on top of her massive belly and sighed contently.

“How long is it now?” Peter asked, and she grimaced.

“Week, give or take. Who knows with these things.”

“Well I want you to know, that I sincerely do not want to be your reserve person in case Jordan can’t be there for some reason.”

Everyone chuckled, even Talia.

“Well, I want you to know, Uncle Peter, that I wouldn’t want you there in any case,” Laura said, aiming for a similarly fake sincere tone.

They chatter about work—Jordan was a sheriff’s deputy, Talia a lawyer, and Laura worked for an entertainment website. Eventually, Cora passed them on her way to her room, and James and Chris came to join the adults.

They heard Derek and Stiles go into the kitchen, which meant they certainly hadn’t had enough time to ravage each other wherever they’d been. Oh well, they were young, they would get there. _If only they got to it already_ , Peter thought.

James brought beers for the men, and when it was time for refills, Chris got up. “I’ll get them. I need a soda anyways. Wouldn’t want to drive after two.”

“That’s a good rule to have,” Jordan agreed and requested a soda as well.

When Chris walked out of the living room, Peter watched through the wide, open doorway as his husband stopped in the middle of the hall. Suddenly Chris turned around and marched back into the living room, looking mildly disturbed.

“What?” Peter asked, amused by the seldom seen expression.

“They were… _groping_ each other,” Chris breathed, and everyone in the room burst out laughing.

“Fucking _finally_ ,” Peter said with feeling.

That set the others off again, and even Chris chuckled as he came to kiss Peter. “You’re such a meddler,” he said in a fond tone.

 

*-*-*

Stiles and Derek jerked apart when the sudden laughter drifted into the kitchen.

“I… uh…,” Derek stammered, flushing a little.

Stiles couldn’t understand how someone so gorgeous could be so fucking shy and awkward.

“Hey, even if they’re somehow laughing at us, who cares,” Stiles said and stepped closer.

He cupped Derek’s jaw with one hand, leaving the other over Derek’s heart, feeling it beat hard  against Stiles’s palm.

“We can never admit he was right,” Derek suddenly murmured, glancing toward the living room.

“Oh no, absolutely not.” Stiles grinned. Then he leaned forward, gauging for a reaction, and when Derek didn’t pull away, he pressed his lips to Derek’s.

They hadn’t gotten to a point where they touched each other under the clothes, and Stiles was starting to feel dizzy with need to just _touch_ Derek.

“Why would you want me?” Derek blurted out, then tried to step back, away from Stiles who grabbed the front of his nice Henley to keep him still.

“You’re hot like burning, that’s one thing, but you’re also wicked smart, you work hard and love your family. And I kind of like the way you look at me, too.” Now it was Stiles’s turn to duck his head.

Derek waited until he looked back up, then smiled at him, brighter than the sun, and said, “Ditto.”

This time, when someone came into the kitchen to get drinks, they didn’t separate. They just kissed, awkward as it was with how they were both smiling widely, through the pointed clinking of bottles.

Eventually, they pulled back a little and sighed happily in unison, which only made them both chuckle.

“How about we get out of here?” Derek asked.

Stiles nodded vigorously.  It was time to be alone together.

 


End file.
